Fine Line
by sullen-girl
Summary: There has always been a fine line between love, hate, and lust. Not many can recognize those lines; let alone be able to cross them sucessfully. What happens when two boys accidently cross that line? Will love prevail in a sea of hatred.
1. Nothing gets tear stains out

There is always a soul in need of love, always. It may hurt that person to admit it, but they need love and a lover to hide behind. Sometimes the only way to heal yourself, it to love and be loved in return. What will pain a person even more; is the fact that this love will not come from a person close at hand, but from someone who is in your life, but not your circle. They will understand you better than anyone, because at the time their concern and love will not, cannot cloud their better judgment. It's a strange thing, love, but a necessary one. One that should be found at all costs.  
  
A boy sat alone on his bed at number 4 Privit Drive. The house was ordinary, everything was ordinary. Except for that boy sitting alone. He was crying, no crying is an incorrect judgment. He was weeping, huge sobs that lingered and tore out your soul to hear. Apparently the other residents of Privit Drive had no souls, for they screamed at the boy to shut-up they needed sleep for there big trip tomorrow. Although the boy was weeping he had one thing to look forward too, his "relatives" leaving. They would be gone for a whole week. Of course, they couldn't lock the boy up, or starve him. Instead they must give him free reign over the house. It greatly pained them to do so.  
  
An owl fluttered into the room.  
  
"Hey Pig. Are you going to keep me company. I'm glad you can't talk, if you could you would probably just tell me how sorry you are." The owl just hooted in response. It seemed to think that that was a good response, because it stuck out its leg and hooted again. The boy shook his head and untied the letter.  
  
He started reading the letter, and not to his surprise he found it read like every other letter that Ron and Hermione had sent him this year.  
  
Hey Mate,  
  
How are ya. Everything's good here, um Hermione arrived the other day. We hope you can come and stay soon. I know your feeling bad. It must be horrible. Are you still having "dreams?" I can't really say anything. I really wish you would write back. I know how hard it is to lose someone close. I really hope your doing okay.  
  
Ron  
  
"See Pig, that's the fucking point. I mean who close to him has really died. Sirius died because of me, and I don't want to hear how damn sorry everyone is. I don't care. I jut want to be alone. Or maybe with someone who doesn't understand." The boy seeming to have finished his mantra; started his sobs again. At this point everyone in the house started screaming and beating at his door to get him to shut-up. This, unfortunately, just made the boy cry harder. The people just shook their heads and went to the car, with out a final good-bye to the boy inside.  
  
"Shit, Tonks you couldn't be any quieter." "Honestly, I try," a large crash had woken up the boy, who was for one night, sleeping soundly. 'Great here comes the Calvary; I guess I should just put up my white flag know.' The so called "calvary" tried, unsuccessfully, to walk up the stairs without trying to wake the boy in the room. "Harry," Lupin said shaking the boy softly, "are you awake." "Well I am know," the sullen teenager snapped. 'So much for putting up a white flag. . .hmm. . should I go on being an arsehole, or be nice. Nice gets me favors, arse gets people worried or does it make them leave me the bloody hell alone. Guess I'll find out. "Sorry 'bout that Harry. Tonks is waiting downstairs. We have a portkey this time." "And were the hell are we going this time." "Well, the Weaselys are at Grimmuald Place, but Dumbledore said that you could go to Hogwarts if you wanted. It's your choice," the haggard looking man kindly replied. 'Oh yeah, this is really difficult. Alone in a large castle or be crowded by annoying "worried" people.' "Um, I guess, I'll go to Hogwarts. I mean, its really nice and it feels like home, I think that's what I need know." "Okay, but there's something I need to tell. . ." the man was not allowed to finish. "I don't want to hear anything, just take me to bloody Hogwarts." "Okay, well lets get your luggage and go on downstairs."  
  
Harry and Lupin walked down the stairs. An uncomfortable silence had descended upon everyone like a cloud. As they walked into the living room, Tonks smile slipped off her face as she saw the grim faces of the man and boy in front of her.  
  
"Okay guys, ready to go." "Whatever," Harry replied grumpily. "Remember, just hold on tight, and in about ten seconds we'll be off."  
  
The last thing Harry remembered thinking, before the portkey activated, was that he wished there would be no one waiting at the other side to piss him off. 


	2. I should have gotten wasted

Disclaimer: I completely forgot to do this in the other chappie. All these characters are not mine. They belong to not me. So don't sue my cause all you'll get is some belly button lint. Sorry.  
  
I hope you guys like the fic. It's my first. Not that that means anything. My father is currently getting pissed off and slamming around the kitchen. If I stole anyone's ideas or wording it was completely unintentional. Please don't be kind, tell me what you think. I really can only benefit. Thank you.  
  
A boy was sitting alone in a garden. This boy was not unlike the boy sitting alone in his room at Privit Drive. Except he wasn't' sobbing, he was sitting in the rain; allowing it to envelop his body. This boy was equally sad as the other one, but he could not allow himself to cry. For he was Draco Malfoy, and everyone knows that Malfoys don't cry. The boy secretly wished he was not a Malfoy for it was quite taxing. People often assume that the rich, the privileged, are just that; privileged. They think that the affluent get everything handed to them on a silver platter; that they have to work for nothing. That's not exactly true. The rich have to work just as hard as other people; they just work on other things. The rich work on things that are taxing for the soul, for their emotional well being. I suppose that in the end all your work will catch up with and destroy you; unless of course, you can be brave. Brave enough to not give a damn what anyone thinks, to just be you. That's a lot harder than one would suppose.  
  
'I hate visiting father. He never asks how I am. It always, Draco your upholding the family honor, right. Draco, are you practicing your spells. Draco, are you ready to follow in my footsteps. Blah . . . Blah . . . Blah. I hate him.'  
  
It was quite pointless for the Malfoys to put up a charade. A charade that everything was all right. They were outcasts of society. They could no longer walk through the streets with the crowd parting like they were Moses. No, it was much different know. They all knew it, but they all just stuck their noses up and pretended that no one whispered when they left a dinner party or even a store. Frankly, Draco was sick of it.  
  
'I just want to be normal. I don't want to be the black sheep of society. I don't need society. I need friends and parents who give a shit. I need anyone who gives a shit, but since I don't see that happening anytime soon. I'll just grit my teeth and pretend like everyone still adores me.'  
  
"Draco," a sweet voice called. "What do you want, Narcissa," a very pissed off voice called back. "Oh darling, I just wanted to know if you wanted to go with me to the Parkinson's for dinner." "Are you fucking kidding me. Do you honestly think I'd want to go to the Parkinson's for anything." "Alright dear, well, I guess I'll see you later."  
  
'Why would I want to go to the Parkinson's when there is a beautiful bottle of liquor waiting for me? Hmm. I don't ever know. That's probably why I'm not going. Besides Pansy is a whore. Now, I normally like whores, but this whore could make me marry her. I mean for fuck's sake I'm gay. Then again, I do sleep with anything that will let me. Not, anything.'  
  
People often wonder what would drive a man, or in this case a boy, to drinking. People who have never experienced great sorrow, cannot understand great lengths. Someone once said "Desperate times call for desperate measures." They were, of course, not talking about drinking and bitching, the reasoning was still the time. It's not that difficult to drive someone to drink. People have little self-control; they want an easy fix, and often feel upset. This tandem has a point. The point being, that Draco had access to alcohol; was greatly upset; and didn't give a shit. Unsurprisingly he had become slightly addicted to alcohol; of course a Malfoy has to much self-control to actually be an alcoholic.  
  
'Maybe I shouldn't drink to night. Yeah, that's it. I'll find another way of feeling good. Know I just decide whether to buy drugs or a whore. That's tough one. I think I'll go with a nice cheap twat tonight. Ride real good and rough. Isn't there that one always on main street, she thinks I'm in control, she respects me. Well, she respects my wallet,' with those thought Draco left the house in search of his whore.  
  
The whore never got her money that night and Mr. Malfoy never got his shabby orgasm. Instead he got tied up in a dungeon for three days. He barely escaped with his life. He most certainly didn't escape with his dignity. Alas, that is not the point. Draco was rescued by a very sullen man. His life was a tragic one, not unlike the life of Draco's. So he hauled Draco's sorry ass to Hogwarts to be fixed up by the kind nurse there.  
  
He was in a coma for three days. He finally awoke to Prof. Dumbledore standing above him with an annoying twinkle in his eye.  
  
'I should have gotten fuckin' wasted,' was the last thought that crossed Draco's head before promptly passing out. 


End file.
